Life of the Party
by dianadrinksadozendrinks
Summary: Cosima dances in her favourite club like always. Amongst the dancing crowd, she spots a tall, blonde woman who is dreading every single moment in the club. Cophine-ish. One-shot.


_I love it when you just don't care  
_ _I love it when you dance like there's nobody there  
_ _So, when you get tired don't be afraid  
_ _We don't care what them people say_

I wish I could dance as freely as the dread-locked girl on the stage of the crammed club I found myself being dragged into by my way too social best friend. I find it most appealing as to how permeable the bespectacled girl is to her emotions, letting them control her petite body like a marionette. Her feathery feet tap from here to there, never faltering in a strength so fluid it's almost inhuman.  
My eyes are fixed on her. I sway to the upbeat music, my muscles and bones aching for movement. But suddenly, I am very aware of how many pairs of eyes are taking in every single detail of me. I freeze mid-sway and all I can do is—... Is run.

 _We don't have to be ordinary  
_ _Make your best mistakes  
_ _Cos we don't have the time to be sorry  
_ _So, baby be the life of the party_

As I move my hips consummately the way I've done uncountable times before, I open my eyes briefly just to notice a nervous-looking, tall blonde pushing against the dynamic crowds all too occupied with themselves. I'm not quite ready to finish my dance, nevertheless, I keep my eyes on her. What could it be that is panicking her?

 _Take your shot it might be scary  
_ _Hearts are gonna break  
_ _Cos we don't have the time to be sorry  
_ _So, baby be the life of the party_

I can't get past the wall of moving people which scares me just a little bit more. In utter horror, I realise that there's nowhere to run.  
My head starts spinning. With every useless push against the fleshy blockade I lose myself a bit more. I think I'm about to get sick.

 _Together we can just let go  
_ _Pretending like there's no one else here that we know  
_ _Slow-dance for the love as the club jock plays  
_ _We don't care what them people say_

Eventually, I stop dancing; I just want to help her. I can see from her furious look, her shaking hands, and her swift feet, tapping from here to there, that she's indeed very uncomfortable. I jump off the little stage and walk straight towards her whilst wiping the heated sweat droplets from my forehead. With only a few strides I stand behind her and without hesitation, I grab her arm firmly.

 _Come back to life, come back to life  
_ _There's no one standing in your way  
_ _Come back to life, come back to life  
_ _We don't care what them people say_

Blackness. I blink. A face. I blink again. Same face. A hand clutching my arm. A stranger's hand. Clutching my arm.  
What's going on?

 _We don't care what them people say_

Her pupils dilate, her eyes widen, her jaw tenses and my grip is not faltering.

 _We don't have to be ordinary_

She smiles amiably, reassuringly. That doesn't alleviate the electric shocks bumping against the walls of my blood vessels though.

 _Make your best mistakes_

I don't know what I'm doing but it doesn't matter because I've long stopped listening to the voice of my mind, telling me how weird it is that I'm currently doing. I decide to pull her out of her anxiety—out of the middle of an intimidating crowd of people.

 _Cos we don't have the time to be sorry_

My feet are moving. Involuntarily, I might add. I realise that the crazy, rather short brunette who's dragging me against the stream of sweaty bodies is the girl whom I've just admired. I don't know what she wants from me, but I'm too shocked to say something. I'm just following her. Mon dieu, what the hell is going on? Somebody please get me out of this situation.

 _So, baby be the life of the party_

My instincts have always been very bizarre but impressively well. They have always lead me to the best outcome possible, despite having to go through the early stages of strangeness to reach it. This is why I've shut out my rationality and am currently dragging a complete stranger out of the club where I could be having the time of my life right now. I just feel like this is going to be more important. I pull her into the cold, breathtaking night (not because of its beauty, but rather because of the pinching coldness thereof). Our quick breaths turn into vaporous phantoms, ghostly figures.

 _I'm telling you, take your shot it might be scary_

She's not slowing down. Doesn't she ever get tired? I knew I should have brought my jacket but in the quite literal heat of the moment I thought of it to be unnecessary. Memo to brain: Don't act out in the heat of a moment.  
She suddenly stops. Finally. My feet are aching. But what is she doing? She is letting go of my arm, a touch of cold unfamiliarity adheres to the spot she's kept her fierce grip on. Under the dim but warm light of a lonely streetlamp, she looks into my eyes.  
"Take a breath. Close your eyes. I saw that you got pretty nervous back in there. And I also saw you moving to the music. Don't be ashamed of who you are and what you want to do because everything can be beautiful if you allow it to be," she says.

 _Hearts are gonna break_

She flutters her eyelashes at me, in confusion I gather. I take a step back to grant her the personal space which I've been invading, but which she deserves. I take out my phone, play my favourite song, put it next to the streetlamp, close my eyes, and start dancing, in hope she'd follow suit. At first, she doesn't. She just stares at me wildly, like she's never seen anything more horrific than a random stranger dancing in front of her. But gradually, she begins to loosen up her tensed limbs and sways in the most beautiful way I have ever come across to witness. The innocent magnificence with which she lets her arms glide through the chilly air shyly is a work of art. I knew it. No. I _felt_ it—this is so much better than just any night at some loud club. This is beauty to its rawest.

 _Cos we don't have the time to be sorry_

Maybe it's her sincere tone that made me ease up. Maybe it's her honest glance that made the panic go away. Maybe it's the way she decided to get me out of there that made me trust her. I don't know, and I honestly don't care anymore. But one thing I am sure of—I feel free. I _am_ free. I can be the life of the party.  
Memo to brain: Act out in the heat of the moment.

 _So, baby be the life of the party_

• • •

Written for and inspired by an irreplaceable friend, who's pushed me to do things I didn't anticipate I could do. Now it's my turn to return the favour—you can be the life of any party, mate.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Orphan Black.**

 **Song lyrics from "Life of the Party" by Shawn Mendes.**


End file.
